


Good, Bad, and the Spidey Chapter 1

by Fandom_Fics0728



Series: The Good, the Bad, and the Spidey [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (MCU), Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Awkward Peter Parker, M/M, Michelle Jones - Freeform, Ned Leeds - Freeform, Other, Peter Parker - Freeform, also just letting everyone know the reader/you will eventually get superpowers, as for the timeline, but it wont be a huge thing promise, honestly though if you're a girl or nonbinary it's mostly nongendered so anyone can read it tbh, i'm gonna try and keep it pretty vague until after avengers endgame, it's all about that slow burn romance babey, kind of, like it's supposed to be during their junior year but it doesn't really matter tbh, male reader - Freeform, peter paker x male reader, peter parker x reader - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-29
Updated: 2018-12-28
Packaged: 2019-09-29 14:29:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17205107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fandom_Fics0728/pseuds/Fandom_Fics0728
Summary: It's your Junior year of high school, and you've been accepted to Midtown High School of Science and Technology for your aptitude with coding. You quickly meet some kind faces on your first rainy day of class.





	Good, Bad, and the Spidey Chapter 1

            There you stood, in front of Midtown School of Science and Technology. It’s rainy outside. Not pouring, but not quite sprinkling either. Droplets of water generously hit the warm jacket you wear on your back, slicking the concrete in front of the building. You’ve already nearly slipped twice – the grippy-soles of your shoes worn down from age. But you like them. So why get rid of them? It kind of sucks though, because you had nearly gotten dry while riding inside the warm train that left off right by campus.

            It’s your first day attending. Junior year. Just a few weeks after the beginning of the first semester. You’ve recently moved near the school, and even got accepted through showing your proficiency with code. Thank God for your access to computers and boundless hours of boredom. Not that the school was all that private or fancy, though! It was more-or-less public. If you had acceptable grades and could show you had some sort aptitude for science (or technology- per the name) you could get in. Hell, if you simply had some good extracurriculars under your belt you had nothing to worry about. It’s a public school with… style. A public school tailored just a _bit_ too much for those who were gifted or more motivated than the average teen. Damn you hope the work load won’t kill you.

            You take your first step onto the wet concrete stairs – thinking to yourself _don’t fall_ as you do so, because you notice that the steps are smoother than regular concrete. You successfully make it up the first few steps – you’re already halfway up actually. _First accomplishment of the day_ you think, _phew_. You take another step and slip.

            “Oh, shit!” you exclaim. Your foot landed too close to the edge of the soaking wet – dripping really – concrete stair and it slides out from under you. You’ve always been a bit clumsy. Time seems to slow as your face heads toward the ground, but then you feel two strong hands quickly grab onto different portions of your right arm. They prevent you from falling, and you’re quickly able to find footing on the stairs again.

            “Hey, you okay?” a friendly male voice asks from beside you. The hands on your arm let go and slide off slowly as you fully stand up, looking down at your feet the entire time. Making sure you’re still attached to the Earth.

            “Uh, yeah, I’m fine,” you respond thankfully, finally looking up. Your eyes meet with the brown eyes of the boy in front of you. The corners of his eyes slightly lifting as he grins. He’s wearing a sweater over a plaid shirt, and a grey hoodie over both items. He also wears a pair of blue jeans and trainers. His equally brown hair is soaking wet, causing it to curl slightly at the tips. Nice. “Thanks for the save,” you say followed by a chuckle. The pair of you finishing ascending the steps at the same time and begin rushing toward the building’s entrance.

            “No problem. It’s what I do,” the boy responds with a bit of a laugh as well. “So, uh, what’s your name?” He opens one of the wooden doors to the school and steps through it, partially turning around to look back at you through the open door.

            “Oh, it’s Y/N.” You say, grabbing the already-opened entrance. The wood doors are heavier than you first thought - they tug back on you as you re-open them enough so you can get in. The brown-haired teen made it look effortless.

            “Nice to meet you Y/N. And oh, yeah, sorry. You must be new – those doors are kind hefty. The rest are like cardboard though.” He drags his fingers through his wet hair, glancing at the water on his hand before wiping it on his side. Unwittingly, you mimic the same action. Your hair is dry though, so you catch yourself in the middle of it. You drop your hand to your side as quick as you can.

            “So what’s,” “My na-,” “Oh, sorry,” “Sorry.” You both laugh at the awkward interaction. He speaks up quickly though. “You go ahead.” He hooks his thumbs in his back pockets and rocks on his heels.

            “What’s your name?” you ask.

            “Peter. Peter Parker.” It looks like he – Peter – is about to say something else when a bell sounds, filling the halls with ringing for a moment. His eyes widen a bit with panic, a tinge of guilt wiping across his face. “I’m so, so sorry. I would stay here and help you find your classes but I can’t be late to pre-calc again.” He frowns to one side, and points with his thumb behind him.

            “Yeah no you’re totally fine,” you say, shooing Peter away with some hand movements, “it’s _literally_ my first day so I should be fine.”

            “Thank you so much,” Peter says, turning around and starting to jog away from you. “See yah around Y/N!” He starts jogging away faster, before rounding a corner at the end of the hall and disappearing from your view.

            You sigh and reach into your pocket. You had prepared for finding your classes while on the train to the school. Quickly unlocking your phone, you touch the photos app and further navigate to your favorited photos. In there, among other things, are some screenshots. One is of your class schedule and a few others are of the online map of the school. It’s all in one big building (class-wise anyway), but you can swipe/click between the different levels. You favorited them for ease of access. Looking at your schedule, you notice that your first class is pre-calculus. Just like Peter. _Do you think..? Nah_. It’d be great to end up having a class with the first person you laid eyes on at the school, but most likely you have a different instructor. You compare the room number with the map and head off in the direction you need to go. The opposite direction Peter went. Just as you start, a group of 4-5 other teenagers slam through the building’s entrance sprinting passed you. _What’s the damn hurry_?

            A few minutes pass and you arrive at your class – about 10 minutes late. You open the door slowly, knowing that you don’t want to be too intrusive. The teacher is upfront writing already, other students scratching notes onto paper, and she glances over at you. Her face looks significantly irritated, but it quickly softens. She starts walking over to you, black chunky heels clicking on the floor. She wears a flowy lavender dress that goes to her knees and some thick leggings. _Kind of a weird way to dress in this weather_ , you remark to yourself. However, you also quickly notice a very heavy-looking winter coat draped across the teacher’s swivel chair.

            “Class, attention please!” _Jesus Christ, why would you do this to me?_ “This is our new student, Y/N.” The class moans a hello, a few people managing some half-hearted waves. “He’s arrived a bit late into the semester, so please be willing to reach out a hand and help.” She smiles at the class – most everyone nods and smiles back at you before picking up their pencils once more to continue copying. She turns toward you. “My name is Ms. Garnet by the way. If you need any help, feel free to ask. And sit wherever you’d like.”

            “Thank you,” you pause for a split second, “Ms. Garnet.” You chuckle awkwardly to yourself, before taking a seat in the back. Ms. Garnet returns to her position at the whiteboard. She begins explaining something else, squeaking different colored markers across the board some more. You wrangle the notebook from your pocket and start furiously copying, blending in with everybody else.

            A few hours later, it’s lunch time and you’ve learned a few things. Math is still boring. English is still boring. You’re too advanced for your advanced programming class; _hey, at least I’ll get an easy A_! People act the same here as they have in your other schools. There must be some sort of policy for new students. It’s weird. All three of your teachers so far have introduced you in nearly the same way. The anxiety of it never got any better though.

            After being released from programming, you simply followed the heard to the cafeteria. Your English teacher had told you there’s only one lunch hour, so when the time came you could follow just about anybody to find your way. Eventually you make it to the cafeteria, and it’s pretty big.

            Made to fit just over a thousand students, the school built a few different kinds of lunch areas. The main cafeteria has dozens of rows of large tables. Outside of the cafeteria, in the rain, are groupings of other tables scattered about in a few different small courtyards. Some of them are covered via canopy, while others are completely open-aired. Trees and patches of grass are also scattered throughout the campus grounds. Of course, because it’s raining many of these seem to be going unused today. The cafeteria is packed – you can’t see a single open seat after quickly scanning the expansive room. You figure you’ll worry about seating arrangements later, as your stomach’s need for food is quickly growing.

            It takes 15-20 unbearable minutes to get through the line, pay with a swipe of your student ID, and get to searching for a spot. You’re not to upset about it though, because the food does look like some genuine effort was put into making it. Nothing to make your mouth water, but it does at least look fresh. As you carry your black tray around, you do see a few open spots around the room. However, everyone seems to be clearly involved with one another, so you rationalize that it’d be a bit odd to plop down near another group. You decide to go sit at one of the covered tables. You’ll sit with other people after making some friends in your classes. Shouldn’t be too long at all!

            “Hey, Y/N!” You hear a voice call from behind you. You turn around with your tray and see Peter jogging toward you. His hair is wet, partially sticking to his forehead. “Don’t go outside – the rain’s been picking up. You can come sit with us.” You notice his hands switching from multiple different poses. It’s like he can’t decide how to stand properly. He’s grinning a bit.

            “Oh, okay for sure. Thanks,” you reply softly. You take a few steps forward so you’re next to him and he spins smoothly on his heel and starts guiding you somewhere. “So, you found a place to sit in this chaos?”

            “Well, kind of. My friends and I claimed a table at the beginning of the years. And we’re all in the academic decathlon team, so…” He trails off.

            “Absolutely no further explanation needed,” you say in an over-announced, sarcastic tone. You both laugh out loud as you turn down a column of tables. At the end you see a mostly empty one, aside from two people. Peter puts an opened-palm hand up to the side of his mouth, the one you do when “trying” to tell someone something in secret.

            “Just don’t tell them that,” says Peter in a hushed voice. He exaggerates a wink, before speeding ahead of you. He taps the shoulder of a curly-haired girl at the table. She draws in a small sketchbook with her right hand and shovels a spoonful of mashed potatoes into her mouth with the other. “This is Michelle,” he says, rounding the end of the column of tables to pull around to the other side. Peter then taps the shoulder of a boy who’s drinking from a carton of milk. His short, dark-brown-nearly-black hair is parted down the middle. This startles him slightly. “And this is Ned.” Michelle is wearing black jeans, the front of the thighs faded and the knees showing bits of ripped thread. In addition, she wears a very thick looking black hoodie which is still zipped all the way up. Ned wears some brighter blue jeans than Peter, and a blood-orange t-shirt. Over the shirt is an open, dark red jacket. Peter sits down next to Ned where his own tray is positioned. “Ned, Michelle, this is Y/N.”

            “Hiya!” you exclaim enthusiastically. Maybe you’ll meet some more awesome people today after all. You throw up a peace sign as a greeting instead of the usual drab of a wave.

            “Hey, nice to meet you!” Ned says smiling while giving you a wave – his elbow stays on the table however.

            “No gang signs please,” Michelle says to you in an almost jarringly-grim tone. Your eyes dart to your separated fingers and they drop, as if you signaled them to.

            “Oh, sorry. My bad I didn’t-”

            “She’s messing with you,” remarks Peter, “right MJ?”

            “Yeah, only kidding. Apologies. Sometimes my sarcasm is a bit-” she raises her hands, one holding a sketching pencil and the other her spoon, “too much. You can call me MJ as well by the way.” She uses her fingers to form air quotes while saying “too much”. You laugh lightly and sit down next to Michelle, and directly across from Peter. You set your bookbag on the table off to the side.

            “Alright, sick. No worries though I was just a bit _shook_.” Ned pops up straight and his eyes widen a bit of an attempt to mimic fear.

            “I am _shooketh_ ,” he says, referencing a YouTube video you’ve apparently both seen.

            “Boston Market is supposed to be my happy place. And I can’t _go there_ without being recognized!” Peter continues in a fake panicky, emotional voice. His hands in front of him, put up in a position of feigned disbelief. At this point MJ’s cool demeanor has dropped.

            “She said order for _Christine_ , she _knew_ my name,” MJ finishes the joke. You all bust out in laughter, guaranteeing a few stares from others around you. But you don’t care. You’ve met some great people today. The energy of the four of you together is spectacular, and the transition into further conversation during the free period was seamless. Most of the hour rushes by as you all finish eating and continue talking and laughing. Ned luckily points out that there’s only a few minutes left of lunch before you all get too swept up in discussion.

            “There’s a little less than 5 minutes until dismissal,” he pulls his bag onto his back in preparation to leave and puts his phone into his pocket, “just pointing it out.” MJ curses quietly to herself, then gets up and briskly walks off to throw away her empty tray that’s been sitting there.

            “What does the rest of your day look like schedule wise?” Peter asks you. “Maybe we’ll all have a class together.” He reaches up to scratch one of his eyebrows.

            “European History next-”

            “Oh nice, I think MJ has that 4th period as well. You’ll have to compare teachers,” Ned interjects happily. And to be honest, you’re very relieved at the possibility of having a class with a friend.

            “Perfect, I’ll ask her as soon as she gets back,” you say. “5th period I’ve got my foreign language and 6th period I have Chemistry Two.”

            “No way!” Peter exclaims, “Who’s the teacher?” He leans forward a bit – anxious for your answer.

            “Doctor Beauregard?” you ask after sliding over to the teacher listing on your phone. You’re mentally crossing your fingers.

            “Yes!” Ned and Peter exclaim at the same time. They high five, barely even looking at one another. “We both have the same class then as well!” Peter says excitedly. His smile drawing across his face.

            “I’m so pumped. And I’m like,” Ned looks between Peter and you, his mouth slightly ajar, “never excited for chem.”

            “Very true,” Peter says, pursing his lips and nodding. “I personally like it, but Ned’s always bored out of his mind.” You notice MJ returning to the table, and the bell sounds. “Hey, MJ, Y/N has European History right now, who’s your teacher again?”

            “Oh, cool!” she turns to you while stooping to pick up her bag. “It’s Mrs. Ford.” She says the name of your European History teach and your face lights up.

            “Same here!”

            “Well, let’s get going then.” She smiles back at you and uses her thumbs to point behind her. She starts to very slowly walk backward. You sling your stuff over your shoulder and stand.

            “See yah in a while Y/N!” Peter calls to you as you and MJ walk away. You turn your head and wave back at Ned and Peter who are starting to walk in the opposite direction, they both wave back. You and MJ chat as you walk – you find that the rain has gotten a bit lighter throughout lunch’s duration. You consider the people you’ve met today for a few minutes, thinking about the possibilities of a tight knit, close friend group. They’re all geeky, funny, and a bit awkward just like you. _Perfection_.


End file.
